


Self Sacrifice (Is Bullshit)

by sadIittlenerdking



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Quentin is reckless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 15:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10879245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadIittlenerdking/pseuds/sadIittlenerdking
Summary: Margo slams her fist into Quentins shoulder with a glare. “What the fuck!” She exclaims, punching him again. “You fucking idiot!”Flinching, he backs away from her assault, “OW - Margo, stop! Why - ow! Stop punching me!”“You! Could! Have! Gotten! Yourself! Killed!” She emphasizes each word with another punch. She advances on him with every step he takes backwards, until Eliot rolls his eyes, taking pity on Quentin, and gently pulls her away from him. “Let me go!” She exclaims, eyes following Quentin’s movements as he moves backwards, and bumps into the nook.





	Self Sacrifice (Is Bullshit)

Margo slams her fist into Quentins shoulder with a glare. “What the fuck!” She exclaims, punching him again. “You fucking idiot!” 

Flinching, he backs away from her assault, “OW - Margo, stop! Why - ow! _Stop punching me_!” 

“You! Could! Have! Gotten! Yourself! Killed!” She emphasizes each word with another punch. She advances on him with every step he takes backwards, until Eliot rolls his eyes, taking pity on Quentin, and gently pulls her away from him. “Let me go!” She exclaims, eyes following Quentin’s movements as he moves backwards, and bumps into the nook. 

He looks behind him, then up at her, and slowly climbs, backwards into the nook, tucked in. “What is her _problem_?” 

“ _My_ problem?” She struggles against Eliot, and even Penny moves in to hold her back as well, one hand on her shoulder as she kicks at the air. “What’s my problem? Quentin you -,” She stops, growling deep as her right eye twitches at him. 

Eliot looks down at her, then up at Quentin. “I mean,” He starts, “You did just try to get yourself killed.” 

“To save you guys!” 

“Oh bull shit!” 

They all turn to look at Julia, who has her arms crossed. “You went on a suicide mission without warning anyone, without knowing at all if doing this could change anything.” She steps further into the room, “She’s pissed because you could have died for nothing.” 

Quentin huffs, reaching up to wipe at the dried blood under his nose, “I didn’t think it’d matter if I died,” He says, soft, scratching at the blood, and casting his eyes on the ground. When they don’t agree, he looks up to find them all looking at him with matching expressions of shock - furrowed eyebrows, slack jawed, something in their eyes he can’t quite recognize. He pulls his knees up to his chest, calves grazing against the doors of the nook. “What?” 

Penny rolls his eyes and storms out of the cottage without saying anything.

Eliot lets go of Margo, and sits down on the couch, expression twisting and morphing as a bottle of whiskey flies across the room and smacks into his left hand. He doesn’t pour it into a glass or anything, just opens it up and takes a big swig from the bottle, eyes locking on the corner of the coffee table. 

Margo sets her jaw and storms across the room. Eyes going wide, Quentin crawls backwards, feet getting stuck in the blanket of the nook, before slamming the doors shut, and casting a quick spell to lock them. “Open the doors,” Margo says, right up against the slit between the two doors, “Right fucking now, Quentin, before I blast them and you to Timbuktu!” 

Quentin moves until he’s backed all the way against the back wall of the nook, knees bunched up tight against his chest. The last thing he needs right now is Margo beating the shit out of him because he failed to do what he meant to. 

“Q - she’s not going to kill you.” 

“I might.”

“ _Margo_.” 

She sighs, “Fine.” And he hears ruffling as she pulls up a chair next to the nook. She sighs again, rougher and more like she’s stalling. “I’m not going to kill you. Open the doors.” When he doesnt move she adds, “I will blast the fucking doors open, Quentin. So - _open them_.”

His head wobbles for a second before he sighs, reluctantly waving a hand and letting the doors swing open. Margo’s staring at him, but her eyes are watering, despite the angry scowl on her lips. “Just get it over with,” He mumbles, leaning down so his chin rests atop his knees. 

Her eyebrow perks as her neck twists her chin up towards him. “Get it over with?” She asks, voice hoarse and angry. Before he can respond, she’s pushing him and twisting him so he’s sitting to one side of the nook instead of dead center and crawls inside with him. She slams the doors shut behind them and crosses her arms over her chest, as her heels slide across the bedding and hit the back of the door with a soft thunk. She looks up towards the light in the ceiling of the nook. “Get it over with?” She repeats, before turning her head to look at him. “Is that what you said when you went to that bastard? _Get it over with_?” 

“No,” He frowns, shaking his head, and burying his face in his knees. “I don’t get why you’re so angry.” 

Her hand comes out, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to look up at her. “I’m not angry you fucking idiot,” She growls, nails digging into his shoulder. “I’m fucking freaking out.” 

Her eyes are welling up, and he swallows. “W - Why?” 

“Why?” She laughs, soft, shaking her head and looking back up at the ceiling, “Because there’s this dumb ass that somehow worked his way into my life, who has a fucking wish for death,” She side eyes him, “Not Eliot,” She mutters, “Surprisingly, the person I just sat six hours wondering whether or not he’s even alive is this little bastard named Quentin fucking Coldwater.” His breath hitches as he sits upright. “I have two people I care about, Quentin. You and Eliot. Eliot, much as I love him, is on a suicide mission of his own that I can’t do a god damned thing about.” She makes a face, chin trembling as she shakes her head and runs a hand through her hair. “You were supposed to be the stupid little weirdo that we keep around for our entertainment.” 

“I thought -,” 

She turns her glare on him, “Did I say I was done talking?” She asks. He shakes his head and she nods, rolling her eyes, and leaning over to replace her nails with her head. Her hair brushes against his jaw, and falls down over his chest. “I know I make fun of you. And that I’m hard to get used to. But I fucking love you, Q,” Her arm comes around, forcing itself between his thighs and stomach, “And I don’t love a lot of people.” 

“Margo -,” 

“Still not done talking.” She pinches his side, bringing her other arm around his back, and hugging him tight. “You don’t think it matters if you die. But it does. Not just to Eliot or your hedge bitch. It matters to me. You’re my only friend outside of Eliot. And I will be damned if you go on some stupid self sacrificing martyr path, okay?” She lifts her head to level him with a soft glare. “I’m not losing either of you.” She adds, letting her head fall back down to his shoulder. “I’ll kill whoever I have to to protect you.” 

He takes a shaky breath, and brings his hand up to cradle her head against him. “I’m sorry.” 

She scoffs. “Don’t apologize,” She mutters, tightening her hold around him, “Just stop trying to get yourself killed.” 

He’s quiet for a few beats, before relaxing and letting his legs fall next to hers, and nodding. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” He feels her smile against his shirt, and he sets his head atop hers. “And if you tell anyone you saw me cry, I will personally rip your dick off and feed it to the first magical creature I find. Got it?” 

He laughs, wrapping his free arm around her waist. “Yeah, I got it.” 

 


End file.
